


Double Down

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Claude von Riegan, Bottom Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Dildos, Fluff and Smut, Genitals Not Specified, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, anal penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lorenz, Claude, and a double-ended dildo.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62
Collections: Anonymous





	Double Down

_ Guess what?  
_ _ I’m a genius and you’re in for a treat tonight 😉 _

The cryptic messages arrive while Lorenz is at his desk. Cheeks hot, he looks around the office to see if he’s been caught, then reads them again. 

Compared to the many, many cryptic texts he’s gotten from his boyfriend in their two years together, these aren’t the strangest, but Claude is definitely up to something. 

Lorenz’s response  _ (This is completely inappropriate for work!)  _ gets left on read, but despite the scandalous nature of the messages, he is curious. Getting through the rest of the day is torture—half a dozen times, he catches his thoughts drifting to Claude. Naked Claude. Naked Claude doing things that Lorenz should not be thinking about at work.

It’s enough to have him loosening his tie the moment the clock strikes five, and by the time he gets in his car, he’s so hot under his collar that he has to blast the air conditioning even though it’s the middle of autumn.

Now that he’s out of the office, his baser instincts outpace his professional composure. All he can see is naked Claude penetrating him in every position they’ve ever attempted and it’s a wonder he doesn’t crash his car. 

He can barely turn the key to his own front door.

And in a stroke of cosmic luck, what should be waiting for him on the couch but Claude himself, completely naked and completely irresistible?

(Of course, the only luck involved is Lorenz managing to find a loving, courteous partner with a sexual appetite equivalent to his own, but today Lorenz feels extra lucky for Claude.)

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Claude says, low and enticing. 

Lorenz can’t decide whether to rip his own clothes off or chew Claude out for sending scandalous texts on the clock—he could get Lorenz or himself fired! But then he catches sight of something in Claude’s hands. It’s long, thick, and golden, foreign yet familiar, appealing yet obscene. 

“Oh, this?” Claude holds up the  _ object  _ and smiles. “Caught your attention?”

“What is it?” Lorenz asks, hesitant.

“You don’t know?” Claude shakes his head. “Come on, Lorenz, use that big brain of yours.”

Oh, Lorenz knows. He wasn’t born yesterday, after all, but he’s never seen one this big, can’t even bring himself to say it out loud…

“It’s a double-ended dildo,” Claude says, blunt and outrageously erotic. Desire pulls at Lorenz’s stomach. “I thought we could both get our way tonight.”

Claude drags it along his spread thighs and Lorenz feels something wet and cold at the corner of his mouth. Saints, he’s  _ drooling!  _ Lorenz snaps his mouth shut, but he’s too aroused to be embarrassed. 

A few months into dating each other, they realized that they shared certain  _ preferences.  _ They could and did work around them in countless, wonderful ways, but this? This was a dream come true.

Lorenz can’t believe he didn’t think of it himself.

“Well, are you just going to stand there drooling?” Claude pats the couch with one hand and stroke the  _ sex toy _ (Lorenz can’t even say the word Claude used in his head) with the other. It’s a challenge Lorenz Hellman Gloucester cannot allow to stand unmet. 

“Certainly not!” And with that, he discards his jacket, tie, shirt, undershirt, pants, briefs, sock garters, and socks (curse his penchant for formal attire) and launches himself at Claude on the couch. 

In an instant, they’re kissing, a heavy, wet drag of lips and tongues. As much as he values decorum, there’s nothing Lorenz loves more than shedding it all for Claude. No one else makes him feel like this: electric and sizzling, like he’s been struck by love’s lightning with no hope or want of recovery. 

Claude’s touch is like millions of tiny shocks, blazing trails of goosebumps and heat over his scalp, his neck, his arms, his back. It’s all Lorenz can do to keep up, to channel his adoration into kisses and massage, but from the way Claude moans his name, he must be getting it right. 

The fire builds as they lave kisses on each other’s necks, and with it comes that pure agony of emptiness, of needing to be filled. Claude feels it, too; Lorenz knows, and tonight, they’ll both get their fill. 

The snap of a cap opening sends a spark through Lorenz’s body, and he pulls back to look into Claude’s eyes.

“What do you want?” Claude’s voice is soft, gravelly. 

Lorenz bites his lip and says, “Your fingers inside of me, and mine in you.”

A smirk twists Claude’s lips. “Well, yeah, but after that.”

Ah. Lorenz swallows and he glances at the item beside them. It taunts him.

“I want to hear you say it.”

When Claude talks like that, Lorenz will say anything. Core taut and heart open, Lorenz takes a deep breath. 

“I want us to fuck this dildo.”

It’s the filthiest thing to ever cross Lorenz’s lips, perhaps the lips of anyone born of House Gloucester, and it feels incredible.

Yet it pales in comparison to Claude’s reaction. His eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a long, rumbling moan before grabbing Lorenz’s chin and kissing him again, nipping at his lower lip. It’s over too soon, but then Claude is slicking his fingers with too much lubricant and twining them with Lorenz’s to slick his, too.

They sit across from each other—the couch is going to need shampooing (again)—with their asses almost close enough to touch, and Claude makes the first move. He plunges one dripping finger into Lorenz’s entrance. It’s tension and relief all at once, and ecstasy once he begins to rock it in and out. 

Once he catches his breath, Lorenz does the same, only he starts with two fingers. His are thinner—elegant, he calls them—and Claude likes it a little rough. It’s a tight fit, but they’ve danced this dance a thousand times, and it doesn’t take long before they’re both three fingers deep, buried to the first knuckle and gasping things Lorenz can barely admit to.

“Are you ready?” Claude asks, breathless. Sweat clings to his hairline, and his chest heaves.

Lorenz can only nod.

Claude grabs it—the golden dildo—and Lorenz’s heart pounds as Claude prepares it with more lubricant. 

Eyes wide, Lorenz watches as Claude grabs it in the middle, presses one end between his legs, and slowly, carefully, pushes it inside himself. 

“That’s it.” Claude’s voice is tight, tighter still as more of the dildo disappears. “That’s  _ good.” _

It’s unbearable now—Lorenz needs it deep inside him, too, and Claude wiggles his eyebrows in invitation, holding the dildo steady with both hands even as he clenches around it.

Lorenz slides forward, not caring how much lube gets on the couch, and places his hands over Claude’s. This is not a small dildo, but Claude has big hands, and he makes it look divine. 

With a deep breath, Lorenz pushes his hips down on the other end. At the same moment, Claude thrusts the dildo forward, not hard, but enough that Lorenz feels the pull inside him. Claude must feel it, too, because they both cry out, but it’s in pleasure, not pain. 

Lorenz looks between them and almost blacks out. They’re connected by a thick, golden bond, hands clasped and hearts united. When he looks up, Claude winks and then sinks onto the couch so he’s lying on his back. Lorenz mimics him, body twitching in ecstasy every time the toy shifts inside him, and then he’s on his back, too, legs crossed with Claude’s. 

This position puts pressure dangerously, tantalizingly close to his prostate. He feels the dildo slide toward him and— _“Claude!”_ —there it is: sudden, shocking paradise. 

Two can play at that game. Lorenz slides it back and Claude’s moan is so delicious he could eat it up, but before Claude can get too cozy, Lorenz eases the dildo back toward himself. His eyes flutter shut and heat pools low in his belly, and from then it’s natural. 

Every push is a simultaneous pull as they move the dildo between them, and soon they’re both rocking their hips, too. Their legs clash as they bury themselves deeper, and Lorenz wonders—if he lifts his legs and arches his back, can their bodies meet?

The closer he gets, the harder it is to stay in control. It hits all the right places, even better when Claude gives it a gentle twist. Lorenz’s heart is racing; he’s moaning and panting like a cat in heat and Claude keeps gasping his name like this is his religion. 

Lorenz is a church-going man, but he can imagine nothing more spiritual than this. 

They can’t get any closer, not in this position, but it’s too much as it is. One good jab has Lorenz crashing over the edge, and with the dregs of his energy, he thrusts deep into Claude, sending him spiraling after. Blissfully full, they come together, joined like never before.

Sliding the dildo out almost triggers another orgasm, and Lorenz shudders. He’s boneless, but not so tired that he can’t crane his neck to watch Claude pull himself free. Only after it’s done does Lorenz realize he was holding his breath. 

Claude moves to put the dildo down and Lorenz’s sense returns. 

“Not on the couch!” he gasps. It’s dirty enough. He shrieks when Claude tries to put it on the carpet. 

“I guess I’ll just hold it,” chuckles Claude. “And next time I’ll grab a towel.”

Lorenz takes a deep breath to ease the guilt creeping into his afterglow. “It’s all right,” he says. “It’s more than all right—that was invigorating.” 

“Yeah?” Claude’s face lights up. It always floors Lorenz—that Claude is so handsome, so kind, and all his. “ _ Invigorating,  _ huh? I was going to say  _ fucking sexy _ but I think I like your word better.”

Lorenz could never do it outside of the liminal space between sex and everything else, but he locks eyes with Claude and says, “I thought it was  _ fucking sexy,  _ too.” 

Claude’s kiss—enthusiastic, loving, and bright—is well worth the awkward squelch of a wet dildo between their chests. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the claurenz anons at the anon meme, I hope I did the ship justice! This is my first time writing either of them in starring roles, so I apologize of the characterization was off.
> 
> Also, this was my first time writing without specifying genitals, so please let me know if I missed something and I will correct it.


End file.
